


The Price of Atonement

by sunryder



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Community: trope_bingo, Forced Marriage, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-07 04:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunryder/pseuds/sunryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I brought this on us! My pride led us here! If I had returned to Erebor with aide, or not spurned such aide when it was offered to me then perhaps my people would not be scrounging for mushrooms in the lower tunnels and hoping that I won't notice that they starve!"</p><p>Dís seized Thorin by the edges of his beard and forced him to come to her, forehead to forehead. "Thorin, he is your One." </p><p>“I know. But how many more people must die for me to be happy?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series of drabbles of increasing length that all connect as part of one story. It's an exercise I do when I need to work on shedding unnecessary words.
> 
> Done for my trope_bingo entry for the "forced to marry" square. 
> 
> (If you'd like, their chronological order is 1, 3, 2, 5, 4.)

 

It never once crossed Thorin's mind to try and hide his affections for Bilbo. 

To hide would've been impossible since the first thing he did upon regaining consciousness after the battle was to see Bilbo, swearing that if the Hobbit wasn’t brought to him then Thorin was going to take up his sick bed and hunt the Hobbit down.

(Dís said that it wasn't so much bellowing for Bilbo that told everyone the depth of Thorin's affections, it was that the moment Bilbo stepped in range, Thorin grabbed the Hobbit by his curls and pulled him down into a kiss.)

 

* * *

 

Thorin pressed deceptively soft kisses to Bilbo’s palms, silently begging him to stay. 

Bilbo accepted that Thorin must be wed to Dáin’s daughter. Erebor would fall without Dáin’s resources, and this marriage was the king’s only condition, that the people of Durin might be unified through the marriage.

But Bilbo had begun to pack. Because knowing that Thorin had to be married and staying around to watch it were two entirely, horribly different things.

But then Thorin pled with Bilbo to stay beside him, to linger at least for the wedding. Because if Bilbo wasn’t there then Thorin didn’t know if he could bring himself to go through with it, or if perhaps he might just vanish one night, following Bilbo to the Shire and becoming nothing but a blacksmith with a Hobbit for a husband.

Bilbo ran his small fingers through Thorin’s waves of hair and pulled him down for a soft brush of lips that almost instantly grew desperate. Bilbo paused, and forehead pressed to his lover’s foreheadher murmured, “Give me one night. One night where I can pretend that you’re my Dwarf, and I’m your Hobbit, and there’s nothing else in the whole world that matters.” 

 

* * *

 

Thorin's people had been inclined to think well of Bilbo Baggins simply because the first time they saw him he was making their king smile. 

Of course, the Company saw to it that the exploits of their Hobbit were quickly spread throughout the kingdom and the Dwarves began to greet Bilbo with mighty cheers of _Agrîfat'azug_ , the Dragon-thief. Bilbo would blush charmingly at the praise and demur “Really, it was the whole Company,” before he bustled off to make himself useful. He scampered around the kitchens with Bombur, helping to stretch the limited food supplies. Then he’d trail after Óin to keep the healer in bandages and salves. When that wasn't enough, he stood beside Kíli when the young Dwarf grew tired and overwhelmed in his duties as Regent, constantly reminding the lad that he had people on his side. 

By the time Thorin was back on his own two feet, his people were calling him Bilbo _Kidhuzur_.

Bilbo the Golden.

When new Dwarves began to arrive, murmuring harsh words under their breath about why this strange creature was with the line of Durin, the first inhabitants smacked them around and told the tales of Bilbo the Golden: “The Trolls and the Sunrise,” “Challenging the Pale Orc,” “Sting and the Spiders,” “The Escape from Thranduil’s Dungeon,” and always “The Burgaling of Smaug.”

Those stories were told aloud, shared over every feast in Erebor and used to scold those who doubted Bilbo’s place beside their King. But in secret, the Dwarves would whisper of Thorin’s _sangimli_ , his truest star, his guiding light, his One. Most of the Dwarves realized Bilbo’s place on their own, but those who doubted, their companions dragged them into darkened halls and whispered the word of a Dwarf’s truest love until every last Dwarf in Erebor understood. 

 

* * *

 

"Dwalin looks like he's one smug comment away from beating in Dáin's skull with a warhammer. I'm fairly certain your company is trying to steal the Wizard’s staff and use it to bring down a tunnel on Dáin’s head so they can call it an act of Aulë against the wedding. Balin, supportive idiot that he is, has informed the Lords of the Iron Hills that you're running late because I'm delivering a message from the Lady Galadriel, and _not_ because you would have rather died in the Battle of the Five Armies than get married today."

It wasn't quite so dramatic as that, and Dís knew it. To have died on the battlefield would leave Fíli and Kíli to take up the crown in Thorin's stead, and if he could be the one forced into marriage rather than his nephews, so be it.

"And then," Dís continued, "there’s your people, who are calling him Dáin the Deceiver for how he has manipulated you into this. They are swearing to themselves that never will they call his daughter Hágaa your queen.”

It was not the first name Dís had ranted at him since he'd agreed to this wedding, and nor did Thorin think it would be the last. She'd meant every foul word at the beginning, but at this point she simply wanted a way out for her elder brother and was furious that she couldn't see one. It was a small comfort, because as much as Thorin would've liked to rant and rave, he had to bear the circumstances with the poise of his station, but still someone got to rage on his behalf.

"And of course, my _sons_ ," Dís spat, "who are consumed with guilt that you have taken this on to spare us all, and who I have never seen so brokenhearted. In fact, the only creature in the whole of the kingdom who seems unmoved is your Hobbit. Though I’m fairly certain that his apathy stems from his hope that perhaps he might be allowed to drop dead before he’s forced to sit through your wedding.” Thorin flinched at the mention of Bilbo, at the thought of his One out there somewhere, clad in finer robes than the Lords of the Seven Clans, more beautiful than even the bride who was impatiently waiting for her wedding. Because it should have been Bilbo, and everyone knew it.

 

* * *

 

Thorin let Dís and the boys shout until he vaguely sensed a lull in the ranting and could murmur, "Winter is fast approaching. We need the aide of Dáin and his Iron Hills to keep our people from starving.”

"We can survive one winter!" Fíli snapped, with all the endless optimism of the young. Thorin ached for a moment, grateful that despite all he had seen Fíli still believed that the world might be so just.

"Are you sure? Are you absolutely _sure_ that none of my soldiers will require healing that we cannot give? That not one Dwarf in Erebor will starve?"

"The Elves have offered their help!"

"Thranduil has offered as much as he can give, but the Mirkwood will take years to recover from the evil of the Necromancer, and with that weighing on them they can only grow so much in the dead of winter. Even if they could keep us supplied, we would have to hope that neither Orc nor Dwarf will decide to try and take Erebor from us when Dáin is safely away.” Out of the corner of his eye Thorin could see his family gearing up to shout again “I cannot keep our people fed and defended, what would you have me do!"

"Anything but this!" Dís stepped right into her brother's space, unafraid of his temper. "Some may not survive the winter, but if you do this you will not survive the marriage. Your soul will collapse under the weight of it." Thorin huffed at her and stood to stride away, but Dís seized him by his shirtfront and slammed him back down to the chair. "And your Hobbit! What do you think this will do to him? How he will go about living his life with the knowledge that his lover left him for another!" 

Thorin went frigid at the mention of Bilbo and hissed, "He knows why I must do this. He hates it, but he understands."

That was more than Kíli could take. “He understands? He understands how you went mad with gold sickness and tried to kill him, and understands how he stands at your right hand on the council, and how the whole mountain has been asking him when the wedding will be, and understands how you’re throwing him over for Dáin’s daughter!”

Dís was not enough to stop him this time. Thorin stormed to his feet and thundered, "I brought this on us! My pride led us here! If I had returned to Erebor with aide, or not spurned such aide when it was offered to me then perhaps my people would not be scrounging for mushrooms in the lower tunnels and hoping that I won't notice that they starve!"

Dís seized Thorin by the edges of his beard and forced him to come to her, forehead to forehead. "Thorin, he is your _One_." 

All the fight melted out of him. “I know. But how many more people must die for me to be happy?"

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost two years since I first wrote this story, and I finally accumulated enough inspiration to continue it. FYI, it follows the same word count idea as the first chapter. Many thanks to EverydayClumsy who wrote me what was possibly the most detailed review I've ever gotten on anything, ever, and basically gave me the plot.

Bilbo had seen the spring sun break across the Shire’s snowy hills, glittering with a light no jewel could match, had seen how the waterfalls of Rivendell sliced their way through delicate arches, and had seen how the King of Eagles swooped and twisted with the strength of his mighty wings. He had seen the way Thranduil’s hard lines gentled at the sight of his son after battle. How Kili and Fili all but crumpled into their Uncle’s embrace when they found him alive in the healer’s tent.

 

But nothing in the world was so beautiful as waking to a still slumbering Thorin Oakenshield.

 

Bilbo pressed his cheek in to the strong curve of Thorin’s shoulder, and buried his fingers deeper in the surprisingly soft tangle of Thorin’s curls. To ward off the mountain’s chill, Bilbo had stolen the blankets in his sleep, leaving the broad line of Thorin’s scar-riddled chest to testify that it was not so easy to bring Thorin down.

 

It was, however, difficult to appreciate how Thorin’s thick arms fit perfectly around Bilbo’s waist when Bilbo knew that he’d never feel them there again.

 

They had agreed to one night. Just one chance to be together in the way they had dreamed about before they accepted the responsibilities that fate had dealt them. One night before Thorin agreed to plan his wedding. One night before Bilbo’s heart shattered in to more pieces than the most skilled craftsdwarf would be able to repair.

 

Bilbo stoked his soft fingers across the silver at Thorin’s temples, and over the crows feet edging his eyes. It would be a privilege to watch that hair fade to white, and make those wrinkles come from smiles. A privilege that Bilbo would never know, and could only pray that Thorin’s wife might appreciate.

 

* * *

 

With shaking hands Bilbo ripped his clothes from the wardrobe and jammed them into his rucksack, packing with even more haste and less care than he had managed when he first ran out his door after a company of Dwarves.

 

He would slip quietly away with the early morning light before Thorin managed to realize there was no longer a Hobbit in his bed. Bilbo had heard Rangers tell of their fond memories of spending just one night with a partner, and that’s all their night would be. Bilbo’s fond memory of one night with a king. Which was a far better memory than watching the love of his life wed someone else.

 

Bilbo froze, when in his blind scramble to pack his fingertips brushed past the blue cloak Thorin had given him. Bilbo knew he shouldn’t pack it. Shouldn’t touch it. Shouldn’t even look at it. And absolutely should not pluck it down from its hook and cradle the bulky fabric to his chest. Dwarves smelled of sweat and soot, but somehow a scent that should’ve made him sneeze instead changed the meaning of home. Bilbo breathed in the scent of Thorin – though Bilbo had no idea how the Dwarf’s scent had gotten itself all over his clothes. He’d tried to ask once, and while the Company tried to tease him about knowing what Thorin smelled like, they still looked shifty.

 

Bilbo would’ve wrapped both the cloak and Thorin’s invisible presence around his shoulders and crawled in to his empty bed to mourn his inability to run when he ought, but Bilbo caught of flash of himself in the mirror.

 

What he saw there stunned him.

 

Bilbo didn’t recognize the Hobbit looking back at him. The fellow he saw in the mirror had Bilbo’s face, but his curls drooped and his features were twisted sour, with red eyes and a snotty nose as he wept over a beau and cradled a scrap of cloth like it held the answers he sought. Like Bilbo was some Bracegirdle boy who hadn’t been asked to dance at Midsummer. Bilbo was weeping away his day like weeping had ever solved a problem. No, he had wept quite enough and it hadn’t done a thing to feed Erebor or to get Bilbo his Dwarf.

 

He was Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, and a Baggins was whom you called when you needed something done without fuss and to still be the envy of all your neighbors.

 

Bilbo rubbed his handkerchief over his face, wiping away the detritus that belonged more on the faces of his juvenile Took cousins than on the head of the Baggins family. He was Barrel-Rider, Elf-Sneak, and Dragon-Thief. Under no circumstances would he let a silly little thing like _winter_ outmaneuver him. Bilbo riffled his fingers through his hair and tugged on Thorin’s coat.

 

Bilbo’s Took side may have gotten him to Erebor in the first place, but now it was time to show these Dwarves what a Baggins could do.

 

* * *

 

It was Ori who cajoled the others to leave Bilbo be, but it was Nori who understood why.

 

Sneaks always recognized their own, and Nori could see something brewing behind Bilbo’s eyes where pain should be. (Or perhaps rage, if Bilbo had been a bit more Dwarf.) In deference to Bilbo’s skill, Nori let him get away with the affront of leaving the Company out of his planning. He shot Bilbo more than a few disappointed glowers, but cleared Bilbo’s way by throwing Ori and his puppy eyes at any Dwarf who tried to discuss the wedding with their Hobbit.

 

* * *

 

 

_Fortinbras Took II,_

_Thain of the Shire, and Head of the Took Family,_

_I’m certain that you’ve already looked over the official paperwork I’ve sent you to enter in to a trade agreement with Erebor. But, since it’s a bit of an odd request, I thought I also ought to tell you the absolute truth about the situation on a piece of paper that the Sackville-Bagginses won’t get their hands on._

_You see, I’m in love._

_I’ve gone and fallen curls over toes for a Dwarf king. (Yes, you read that right.) And the funny thing is? He loves me back. He and his people have just reclaimed their home mountain (the whole city is under a mountain, Fortinbras! As if Hobbiton times a thousand had been moved under the hills), and they are concerned about food for the upcoming winter._

_Don’t worry, this isn’t another Proudfoot incident where I’m having my head turned by a pretty young thing who only wants the Baggins fortune. Thorin is no longer young, and his fortune is enough to buy the whole of Middle-earth several times over. Though I will admit, I find him rather pretty. (And he blushes charmingly when I tell him so.)_

_You see, as strange as it may seem, Dwarves court with gifts of metal rather than earth. Odd, I know, but Thorin has made me some truly lovely gardening tools as part of our courtship. Rather than attempt to stick to Dwarven ways and fail miserably, I decided to do as a Hobbit would do. Only, there’s not much call for Grandmother Admanta’s recipes with the selection of ingredients they currently have here in the mountain. As you know, the giving of food is a perfectly acceptable form of courting – though I’ll be the one actually cooking with the food I’m giving – and since Thorin is a king, I thought it only right to treat the whole of his mountain as his family and get food for all of them._

_I’ll send along another letter with a more thorough account of my adventures, but that would be several pages, and the raven counseled me that the shorter the letter, the faster he could fly. And along with those adventures I’ll tell you how I managed to have my heart won by a stubborn, irritating, infuriating, selfless, passionate, wonderful, Dwarf._

_Bilbo Baggins,_

_Dragon-Riddler, and Head of the Baggins Family_

* * *

 

“He’s just staring at nothing!” Kili hissed. “How can you say it’ll be alright when Bilbo’s sitting on the battlements in his wedding clothes and staring at nothing?”

 

“What else do you want me to say?” Fili snapped. “That Thorin is downstairs having a panic attack? Or do you want me to say that I still can’t honestly believe that Thorin’s life would be spared only for him to spend the rest of it miserable?” Kili whimpered, and Bilbo didn’t need to look to know that Fili had pulled his brother in to a hug.

 

Their soft concern made Bilbo twitch with all he wasn’t telling them, all the secrets he had lurking and waiting to come to light. But as the sweet boys were incapable of keeping their fussing to themselves, so would they be unable to keep quiet. They would do their best to keep Bilbo’s plans to themselves, but with the giggling anyone with sense would be able to tell they were up to something.

 

So instead Bilbo let them both worry not quite out of his hearing range, while he kept a weather eye to the west and the raven he could see on the horizon.


End file.
